


Familiar Care

by ginger_mosaic



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Crowley Confusing the Humans, Doctor's visit, Gen, Humor, Kid Fic, POV Outsider, Snake children, Snakes, snabies, snildren, veterinarian, wiggleverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:49:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22234513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginger_mosaic/pseuds/ginger_mosaic
Summary: Dr. Faela Knowles is a veterinarian, and she loves all animals, especially the so-called “exotic” types.Luckily, her clinic is the nearest one to Soho.A Wiggleverse fic.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 140
Kudos: 408
Collections: Wiggleverse





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for any inaccuracies about snakes or veterinary practices, but—suspend some disbelief for this fic? It’s a story about miracled snake children, after all.
> 
> This fic is brought to you largely in part by everyone who has contributed to the [Wiggleverse](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Wiggleverse) thus far. The vet has already appeared in another Wiggleverse fic, so I thought it was time to bring her to life.

**PART I**

* * *

In the veterinary world, many clinics differentiate between companion animals and exotic animals. A lot of vets will not treat “exotic animals” if their specialty is household pets. Try to take a rabbit, for example, to any old veterinary clinic without calling first, and you are likely to be turned away and told to find an “exotic” pet clinic.

This, Faela Knowles believes, is complete bollocks.

Animals are animals, and all animals need care. Sure, reptiles might need a different sort of care than cats, or horses, but if you’re going out into the world to be a veterinarian and to take care of animals, you might as well take the whole lot.[1] That’s Faela’s philosophy anyway. No animal is too exotic for her practice.

At least, that is what she thought before she met the Crowley-Fells.

* * *

She meets Mr. Crowley first, on a Tuesday. He does not call ahead, but luckily, she has an appointment slot open that morning. The nurse at the front desk pings her, and she goes to the front of the clinic to meet her new patient.

Mr. Crowley is a lanky man wearing sunglasses and all black and holding a small cardboard box. He is in one of the waiting room chairs, and what he is doing can hardly be called sitting.

He is also quietly hissing at the cardboard box.

“Crowley-Fell?” Faela calls, and he looks up from the box and—well, she is not sure that what he did can be called “standing up” either. She smiles at him all the same. “Hello, I’m Dr. Knowles. Come on back.”

She takes the clipboard from Jaquey and leads Mr. Crowley to the examination room. He has filled out the requisite forms, so she knows he is Anthony J. Crowley and that he has snakes and also a partner whose name is simply written “A.Z. Fell.”

“All right, why have you come in today?” she asks, even though he has clearly written “sick snake” on the form.[2] It’s always best to ask aloud and face-to-face, in case the client reveals any other important information that they may not have wanted to put in writing.

“Well, Zed here got into a bit of mischief and seems to have fallen ill,” says Mr. Crowley, shooting the cardboard box a stern look.[3]

“The poor dear,” she says. “What are the symptoms?”

“They aren’t eating. Been just sitting around. Telling me their stomach hurts.”

“Let’s see them, then,” says Faela, making some notes and then setting the clipboard aside. Mr. Crowley obliges her and lifts the top of the cardboard box, but when Faela looks in, she sees not one, but… four snakes? Ah, wait, there’s another head—five.

“They all were worried about them,” says Mr. Crowley, as if in explanation. “You know how kids are. Demanded to come along, keep their sibling company.”

“Aww,” Faela coos, pulling on some gloves. “What sweet babies.” She doesn’t know what he means by Zed “telling” him about the stomachache, nor how the rest of the snakes might have “demanded” to come along, but she is not one to discourage people from loving their animals like children. In some ways, animals _ are _ like children. They need care, attention, encouragement to grow, and a safe home.[4]

“Which one is Zed?” she asks.

Mr. Crowley puts a hand into the cardboard box, shoving right into the center of the snake pile. “Come on, Zed, doc’s gonna check on you,” he says, and then adds, seemingly to the snakes, “I don’t want to hear it. You brought this upon yourself, you know.”

One of the snakes lifts its head and wraps itself around Mr. Crowley’s hand until he can lift it out carefully. Zed is indeed rather lethargic, and while their siblings are all flicking their tongues out, tasting the new place, Zed does not seem interested in smelling anything.

“May I?” asks Faela, holding out her hand.

“Shh,” says Mr Crowley, and Faela is taken aback until she realizes he is talking to the snake. “You’ll be fine. She’s all trained for this, yeah? She’ll help you feel better.” Poor little Zed’s tail flops somewhat forlornly. “We’ll all be right here. That’s a good spawn, there you go.”

And Mr. Crowley passes Zed over to Faela. Zed clings to Mr. Crowley’s arm until he forcibly unwraps them by the tail and loops them into Faela’s palm.

“Aww, poor kiddo,” says Faela, as Zed hides their head under their coils.

Zed is only about six inches long. They are black, with a pinkish-red belly, so Faela would guess their species to be a mud snake or a western worm snake, which are both endemic to the United States, but people ship reptiles all over the place these days. She rarely asks when the animals look illegal; that is not her concern. All she wants is for the animals to be healthy.

Faela examines Zed further and finds that they appear to be male, and she can’t feel anything strange about him. Though now that she looks closer, he doesn’t have some of the characteristics of a mud nor a worm snake.

“What species are they, do you know?” she asks Mr. Crowley while she continues to examine Zed.

“Er,” says Mr. Crowley. “Red-bellied black snake.”

Luckily, Faela is a professional and she does not drop the snake she is holding. “Er,” she echoes. “They’re venomous, then, aren’t they?”

“They won’t bite,” he says, which does nothing to reassure her. A threatened snake will lash out. “We’ve given them strict instructions not to bite humans.”

Faela stares at him, but his expression is hard to interpret behind those sunglasses of his. Either he is messing with her and their venom was removed at some point, or he’s mad.

Well. She’s dealt with mad clients before.

“Right, then,” she says. “Well. I can feel that he hasn’t eaten—”

“They,” says Mr. Crowley.

“Pardon?”

“Zed prefers ‘they.’”

Faela goes with it. “They haven’t eaten, you’re right about that, but I’m not finding any other issues. There could be blockage of some sort, though. You said they got into mischief?”

“Apparently,” says Mr. Crowley. “But they won’t tell me what it is.” He glares at the snake where Faela has laid them on the table and crosses his arms over his chest. “Which is why we’re here.”

Zed sticks out their tongue a little and quickly pulls it back, sheepishly, if Faela were to guess. Their blue eyes are trained on Mr. Crowley. Blue eyes—that’s a bit odd, too, for their species, especially since Zed does not appear to be going through a shed, though it could be a rare mutation. Faela glances at the box, where the other snakes have all risen up to rest their heads on the edge to watch the proceedings, their little tongues flicking out curiously. One of them appears to be an albino of sorts—they are white with blue eyes and a pink belly.

_ Goodness, but they are cute_, Faela thinks.

“Perhaps I should examine the others,” she suggests, only a little bit because according to the charts, this is their first visit to a vet and they probably need a checkup anyway. “It could give us a clue.”

Mr. Crowley’s expression changes completely. His lips curl into a rather frightening smirk, which he directs to the cardboard box of snakes. All of the little heads quickly retract back into the box, and when Faela cranes her neck, she can see that they have all slithered into a pile again and are hiding their heads beneath each others’ coils.

“Hear that, spawn?” says Mr Crowley, smugly and with a bit of mirth. “Now you _ all _ get to have an exam. Unless,” he adds, with a quiet hiss, leaning down so his face is closer to the box, “you want to tell me what sort of trouble Zed got into.”

Faela watches with wide eyes as the four snakes in the box begin to hiss and wiggle around, coiling up and around in circles, clearly very distressed. Zed also begins to hiss on the examination table.

“Mr. Crowley, please,” she says softly, “there’s no need to scare them.”

“Ah, they’re fine,” he says, straightening up again, like nothing had happened. “They know I love them all very much.” The snakes in the box flick their tongues out again and bob their heads up and down, apparently no longer distressed. “Sounds like Zed just got into the donut box again.”

Faela blinks at him. “The… donut box?”

“Yeah, Mr. Fell likes these donuts from down the street, and Zed wanted to try one.”

“Why…” Faela knows she is staring at him open-mouthed, but she can’t help it. “Why would they want to even try a donut?”

“Well, their dad likes them,” says Mr. Crowley, shrugging. “You know how kids are. They get curious.”

Faela takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Well,” she says, “try to keep them away from food they aren’t supposed to eat.”

Mr. Crowley scoffs. “I’m not going to stifle their curiosity. It’s natural and healthy.”

Faela shakes her head. “Well, all right,” she says. “It appears that Zed has digested most of it, but there could be some impaction still. I suggest a warm soak, for fifteen minutes. If they don’t eat in a few days, bring them back and I’ll prescribe something.”

Mr. Crowley hums. “Something like what?”

“Well, probably a sort of laxative type thing, to help them pass whatever is left of the donut. Which snakes are not supposed to eat in the first place,” she adds as a reminder.

“Are you listening?” Mr. Crowley hisses at Zed, who is slithering about on the exam table. “No, don’t get excited about a bath _ now_. She’s telling you what’s going to happen.”

“And what not to eat,” she adds, looking down at the little snake, too. She is not sure how much it will help.

Zed hisses softly and then lifts their head and looks back at Mr. Crowley. Faela’s eyes widen as the snake nods once.

Mr. Crowley packs up his snakes, satisfied that nothing is terribly wrong, and Faela leads him back out to the front room.

“Well, thank you for bringing them in, Mr. Crowley,” she says, still a little confused. “I can tell you care very much about your snakes. Just please make sure they don’t eat anything they shouldn’t.”

Mr. Crowley just shrugs and waves a hand dismissively. “You know how kids are,” he says again. Faela rolls her eyes. “And it’s Crowley,” he adds. “Just Crowley.”

He signs the bill that Jaquey printed out for him and then saunters out of the door, waving.

“See you around, doc, I’m sure,” he says.

Faela sighs deeply. “Yes,” she says. “I’m sure.”

* * *

[1] Dr Knowles, it should be noted, would definitely be sorted into Hufflepuff.[return to text]

[2] She guesses—correctly—that he does not mean “sick” as in “cool” or “wicked.” Surely he didn’t come in just to show her his excellent snake.[return to text]

[3] Concerning the naming of Zed: “Because Junior’s name starts with A—A to Zed, get it? Oh, come on, angel.”[return to text]

[4] Faela was very wise in this regard, as a business associate of Crowley’s could relate. He once made the mistake of calling Crowley’s snakes his “pets.” From then on, Crowley only ever referred to the businessperson’s children as “pets” and obstinately refused to acknowledge otherwise. When the businessperson called at Mr. Fell’s shop to get Crowley on the line, Mr. Fell was also rather cold about it. “Oh, I'm afraid he's out right now. I can take a message,” said Mr. Fell. “Oh, it's you! Lovely to speak with you at last. How are your _ pets _ ?” For Christmas, the Crowley-Fells had gotten his children dog toys. After months of this, he came to the bookshop to apologize directly to the snakes and offered them children’s books and toddler’s toys. Which they actually seemed to like. He walked out of the bookshop, confused but having learned his lesson.[return to text]


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of the content in this chapter comes from conversations in Ace Omens. Thanks, y’all, for being so remarkably silly.

**PART II**

* * *

The next time Faela sees the Crowley-Fells, it is a Friday afternoon. When she walks out, Crowley is lounging in a waiting room chair with the cardboard box in his lap again, and a white-haired man is standing at the front desk, chatting amiably with Jaquey. When he turns to Faela, he beams at her, radiating warmth.

“Hello,” says Faela, offering a hand. “You must be Mr. Fell.”

“Ah, yes!” he says, taking her hand with both of his. “It’s lovely to meet you. Crowley told me all about their last visit with you, and I thought it might be a good idea to have all of the children checked on.”

A very good idea, Faela thinks. Truth be told, she has been rather worried since he left. A snake eating a donut? She doesn’t want to say that is irresponsible, but…

Well.

She turns to where Crowley is still sitting, talking in a low voice to the box. “Come on back, then,” she calls.

When they are all settled in the exam room, Crowley opens the box for her again. Like last time, it is filled with twigs, moss, and bark pieces, and the five snakes are all tangled together in a pile. They all seem very active and responsive, all flicking their tongues out and raising their heads curiously.

“Hello, sweeties,” she coos into the box. “And how are we today?”

Mr. Fell beams, and the snakes begin to uncurl excitedly.

“They were looking forward to this,” Crowley admits. “After Zed told them it wasn’t so bad.”

Faela raises an eyebrow at him. “If I recall correctly, you used an examination as a threat.”

Crowley sniffs. “Yeah, well. Desperate times. You know. Needs must.” [5]

“Well, let’s get acquainted then,” says Faela, strapping on some blue gloves. “I didn’t catch all of their names last time."

Crowley introduces them one by one, taking them out of the box and laying them on the exam table where they slither around a bit, tasting the air excitedly.

“Right, so this one is Anthony Junior,” he begins, picking up a yellow-eyed one.

“Anthony Junior?” she asks, raising another eyebrow.

Crowley purses his lips and shoots Mr. Fell a glare when he chuckles. “Zira wanted to name one after me,” he mutters. Then he picks up the blue-eyed one—Zed, she remembers.

“You’ve met Zed,” says Crowley.

“Yes, hello, little friend,” says Faela, offering her finger for Zed to lick. His tongue flickers up and down and he shakes his head a little. “Oh, all right,” she says, peeling off her glove. This time, he slithers up her finger and wraps around her wrist.

“Here’s Mal,” says Crowley, laying down another yellow-eyed snake, which immediately curls into a little coil. “Short for Malus, she can be a bit shy. And here’s Oscar,” he lifts up another yellow-eyed snake, which is wrapped tightly around his wrist and doesn’t seem to want to let go, “and Rose.”

Rose is the white one with the blue eyes—perhaps an albino or some other type of mutation. She slithers curiously to the edge of the exam table to join Anthony Junior where he is trying to lift himself up to smell Faela.

“Goodness, they are all very precious,” she says, offering her other hand to Anthony Junior and Rose, who smell her glove eagerly. “Are you all being good for Daddy?”

They all wiggle their little tails and heads, and for some reason, Crowley flushes red. [6]

“They’ve all been very good,” says Mr. Fell.

Faela glances up from where she has leaned over so that Anthony Junior and Rose can smell her face with their little tongues. “No more donuts, then?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

Now it’s Mr. Fell’s turn to blush. “Erm. Yes, that was entirely my fault, I’m afraid. I left the box open.”

“Can’t learn if you don’t make mistakes,” says Crowley, looking pointedly at Zed, who ignores him in favor of slithering further up Faela’s arm.

“All right, let’s take a look,” she says, and she holds up her arm to meet Zed’s eyes. “We’ll start with you, Zed.”

After Zed, Anthony Junior and Rose get tangled together in their attempts to get her attention first, and Crowley has to pull them apart. He hisses reprimands at them until they part and allow Faela to examine them one at a time. Once she finishes with Mal, she turns for Oscar.

“Erm,” she says. “Where is Oscar?”

“Oh,” says Crowley, and he looks at his sleeve. “Oi, come out from there,” he says to his bicep. A little hiss omits from inside of his shirt. “What? Why not?”

“Darling, it’ll be all right,” says Mr. Fell, standing up from his seat across the room. “It’s just an examination. It won’t hurt a bit.”

There is another hiss, and Crowley shoots Mr. Fell another glare. “Not helping, angel,” he says through gritted teeth. “Look, Oscar, all your siblings got through it, yeah? They’re fine. Right, spawn?”

The four other snakes slither over to the edge of the table nearest Crowley and begin to wiggle and hiss in earnest.

“See? Not scary at all,” says Crowley to his sleeve. “Come on.” He begins to try to run his hand down his arm to herd the snake down, but Oscar evades him and apparently slithers further into his shirt, if the way Crowley squirms is any indication. “Hey!” he says, and he reaches up into his shirt and his hand comes back out with Oscar. “Gotcha!”

Oscar wriggles helplessly in Crowley’s hand, trying to slither back around his wrist, and there are several high-pitched pops in quick succession.

“Aww,” says Faela, recognizing a distressed snake fart when she hears it. She tries not to laugh about it; no matter how funny it sounds, it means the snake feels threatened. “How about this? Daddy can hold on to you, Oscar, and I’ll just examine you from his wrist.”

“That sounds like a lovely idea,” says Mr. Fell. “Oscar, what do you think?”

“Shh, shh, shh,” says Crowley to the wriggling snake in his hand. “Hear that? Listen, we’ll all be right here. She’s not gonna take you. All right?”

Oscar lets out a few more terrified pops and then stops wriggling. Crowley allows him to wrap tightly around his wrist, and then he holds out his arm to Faela.

“He’ll cooperate,” says Crowley.

“Poor baby,” says Faela, offering her hand for Oscar to sniff timidly. “Aww, you’re a brave little noodle, aren’t you?” she coos, and then adds to Crowley, “I can already tell he’s very healthy. He moved fast.”

“He’s the fastest,” says Crowley, grinning like a proud father. “Aren’t you, spawn?”

“Now, Anthony, there’s no need to be jealous,” says Mr. Fell, probably to Junior. It seems like a weird thing to say to his husband.

When she is done examining Oscar, she pronounces that all of the snakes are perfectly healthy, which she is sure the three of them—herself, Crowley, and Mr. Fell—are relieved to know. When she asks, she is told they are eating regularly and  _ properly _ and are getting plenty of exercise, both within and without their terrarium. Though the  _ without _ part is a little concerning, Mr. Fell assures her that they are well supervised in his bookshop and at the flat.

“Very lovely to meet you, Dr. Knowles,” says Mr. Fell, as they head out.

“Nice to meet you, too,” says Faela. “Take good care of those precious babies.”

Mr. Fell’s smile is radiant.

Regardless of the donuts, she trusts him implicitly to properly care for the snakes in his possession.

* * *

_ I thought too fast, _ she thinks to herself as Crowley brings in the cardboard box a few months later. The visit had been scheduled in advance for once, though Jaquey was rather confused when the fax came through. It was a photo of a snake with a round belly curled next to a handwritten sign reading: “I ate chocolate and now my tummy hurts. #snakeshaming.”

And that was the only warning they got that the Crowley-Fells were coming in once again.

“What’s the trouble?” she asks.

Crowley says nothing and simply opens the box. There are only two snakes in there this time.

“Er… Anthony Junior and Mal, is that right?” she asks, eyeing the nearly identical snakes. Except that one of them has a protruding belly, and the other… is shaped somewhat like a cane and appears to be having trouble moving.

Faela sighs. “What did they eat this time?”

Crowley points to Mal. “Chocolate.” And he points to Anthony Junior. “Candy cane.”

Faela stares at him. “How?” she asks.

“Well, the chocolate was in my Christmas stocking,” says Crowley. [7]

Faela continues to stare at him.

Crowley sighs. “And they all crawled into the stocking. Keep up, doc.”

She suppresses the urge to rub her temples. “And the candy cane?”

“It was, you know, lying around.”

“Lying around,” she repeats.

“In the terrarium.”

“Why,” asks Faela, with a patience that only a veterinarian with years of experience under her belt could manage, “was there a candy cane in their terrarium?”

Crowley shrugs. “They dragged it in.”

Faela shakes her head and sighs, and then addresses the two small snakes in the box. “Looks like we’ve got some naughty children on our hands,” she says to them. The snakes begin to hiss and wiggle, though Junior is having some trouble moving around, on account of the  _ candy cane inside of him, for goodness’ sake. _ “I’ll bet that hurts a bit, doesn’t it, my little friend?” she says, running a finger over his head and stopping where she imagines the candy cane begins.

She looks up at Crowley. “Mal should be all right and pass it herself, with a warm bath to help it along,” she reminds him. “But I’m glad you brought in Anthony.”

“We thought so,” says Crowley. “But we needed to make an example of her. And Junior, well…” He waves a hand vaguely over his namesake snake. “Wasn’t sure how safe it was to try anything. Hard candy and all.”

Anthony makes a little popping noise.

“Aww, baby,” she says to him. “It’s okay. It won’t hurt a bit, all right? And then you get a warm bath, too, and you’ll feel all better.” She turns to pull on some gloves. “So you’re right, hard candy isn’t ideal. It will take a long time to digest. So we’re going to break it up a little here, and then he gets warm baths until he can pass it all. And then no more candy.”

Two little hisses answer her.

“She’s right, spawn,” says Crowley. “As funny as it is to eat things that give you fun shapes, only you can say if it’s worth the stomachache or not.” Then, after a pause: “Yes, it was funny, but now you’re all cane-shaped and can’t move. How are you supposed to race Oscar now?”

Faela smiles as she prepares a shallow tub of warm water and as Crowley continues his conversation with his snakes. She, too, talks constantly to her patients while she works with them. It’s comforting to her, if not comforting for them.

“All right,” she says, placing the tub on the exam table. “In you go, and I’ll help you both along.”

Mal wiggles around in what seems to be pleasure when Faela places her in the water, and she submits easily enough to a massage. Junior hisses woefully as Crowley helps Faela transfer him to the water, and his massage is a little more difficult. His little tail flops around, showing his discomfort as Faela tries to massage the candy cane inside of him into smaller pieces, helped by the warm water. Finally, it’s broken down into pieces that will probably be easier to digest, and Junior manages to curl up a little.

“All right, here’s the hard part,” she says, reaching into a drawer and taking out a syringe and a small vial. “I’m going to give him a little bit of laxative to help it along. He won’t like it, but I’d rather he pass the whole thing sooner than later.”

“Er,” says Crowley, glancing at the syringe apprehensively. “How will that work?”

“This is just an oral laxative,” she says, taking some of the mineral oil from the vial into the syringe. “Absolutely safe. If he still has difficulty, bring him back in a few days and I can give him an enema.”

Crowley shudders and then looks down at the tub. “Remind me not to bite off more than I can chew, eh?” he says to the snakes. Mal tilts her head and then keeps swimming around. Junior’s tail flops around again in discomfort, but at least he’s a little more mobile now.

“All right, come here, little one,” says Faela, reaching for Junior. He flops away from her, trying to wriggle in the water, and bumps into Mal, who slithers right over him and slaps his face with her tail on her way past.

“Malus,” warns Crowley, and she slows down a little and curls into a corner, watching Junior struggle to get away from Faela’s hand.

“It’s not that bad, promise,” she says, managing to take him by the head and lift him up out of the water. He begins to fart in distress, and she shushes him and presses his jaw open. “There we go, and swallow.”

The little snake sticks his tongue out and whines a bit, as though trying to push out the medicine, but Faela holds him until she’s sure he can’t spit it out. Not that he doesn’t try, when she sets him back in the water. Mal swims over to him and licks his face a little, curious.

“Leave him alone, Mal,” says Crowley. “You’re all right, Junior, it’s over now.”

“You’ve really got to keep them away from candy,” says Faela, removing her gloves.

“Can’t blame me if they’ve got a sweet tooth,” says Crowley. “They get that from their dad.” [8]

“Still,” she says, handing him a towel so he can dry his hands after moving his snakes back to their cardboard box. “Children can get into things they shouldn’t. Some guidance wouldn’t be remiss.”

Crowley hums. “All right,” he says at last. “Good point. Say bye to Auntie Vet,” he adds.

Two little hisses answer again.

_ Oh my goodness, they are too cute _ , Faela thinks.

* * *

It is months before Faela sees the Crowley-Fells again, though she receives updates from Mr. Fell on occasion on how they are growing, and Crowley seems to like to fax #snakeshaming photos. The last was of Oscar high up on a bookcase, a low-angle shot showing his little head poking over the side, with Crowley’s hand holding up an index card reading, “I climbed up too high and now I need Father to help me down #snakeshaming.” The one before that was of Zed and Anthony Junior, who both looked like they had swallowed elephants. They were framed on what looked like a kitchen table with the caption, “We ate too many dinosaur chicken nuggets and now we are sluggish #snakeshaming.”

So Faela is surprised when she gets a call at around eight o’clock, just as they are closing up the clinic for the night. She waves out Jaquey and answers the phone herself.

“Hello, Dr. Faela Knowles’s office, this is Dr. Knowles speaking,” she says.

“Oh thank goodness,” says Mr. Fell, sounding harried. “I, erm, there’s been a sort of incident—and we were hoping to see you as soon as possible.”

“What is it?” asks Faela, sitting up straighter. It’s never been an emergency before. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh, it’s Junior,” says Mr. Fell. “He’s swallowed… well, a coin. And we thought maybe a warm bath would do it, like normal, but he is very uncomfortable, and we’re afraid to try anything else on him ourselves.”

Faela opens the file on the Crowley-Fells and starts typing in notes, holding the phone between her ear and her shoulder. “About when did he swallow it?” she asks.

“We aren’t positive, but at least in the last two hours.” A hiss comes from the background. “Yes, yes, dear, I’m checking.”

“How big is the coin?” she asks.

“Er. We believe it was a five pence.”

Faela holds back a hiss herself. “All right, better bring him in, to be on the safe side.”

“We’ll be there as soon as we can,” Mr. Fell promises.

After they hang up, Faela calls her nurse back, just in case.

* * *

Both Crowley and Mr. Fell come in, this time without any cardboard box. Mr. Fell is holding Anthony Junior, his tail wrapped tightly around his arm. Junior looks positively miserable, his head and tail drooping.

“Oh, poor baby,” says Faela, quickly leading them to the exam room. “How  _ did _ he manage to swallow a coin?”

“He sssays it was an accssident,” says Crowley, arms crossed and fingers drumming on his biceps. “Just playing around, and then ssswallowed it, and then panicked. But didn’t call either of us for a couple of hours.”

Faela hasn’t heard Crowley speak like this before, and while he’s been rather hard to read before, she can tell by his jerky movements that he is incredibly anxious. Mr. Fell lays Junior down on the exam table and then begins to fidget with his fingers as well. Faela moves in to examine Junior and hisses in sympathy—that’s quite a bulge poor Junior has in his middle.

“That looks like it hurts,” she says, prodding him gently.

Crowley hisses, too, and steps over to pet Junior’s head. “You’ll be all right, spawn,” he says quietly, and Junior licks his hand. “Promise.”

“Where are his siblings?” asks Faela.

“At home,” says Mr. Fell, wringing his hands. “In their terrarium. Our friend is watching them.” [9]

Faela nods. “All right, let me take a closer look.”

She has to shoo them out of the room so that she can take x-rays, and Mr. Fell has to take Crowley by the hand and drag him out to stand by the door. She lets them back in and goes to print the photos. She and Jaquey examine them, and Faela’s stomach sinks. Junior has managed to swallow the coin down past the point of no return, in her professional opinion. It would hurt too much to regurgitate it, which was her hope, and waiting for it to pass on its own in this small of a snake might cause tearing.

“They aren’t going to like this,” says Jaquey, frowning.

“No,” Faela agrees, taking the photos back to the exam room. Crowley and Mr. Fell are both sitting in the chairs, Crowley holding Junior in his hands and petting him gently.

Faela throws the x-rays up onto the wall. “He’ll be all right,” she says. “But I recommend surgery to remove the coin, to avoid further complications.”

“Surgery?” says Mr. Fell hesitantly. Crowley croaks wordlessly next to him, and Mr. Fell takes his hand. “What, um, what would that entail?”

“I’ll sedate him, so he’ll be asleep the whole time. Then I’ll make a small incision in the area, extract the coin, and sew him right back up,” she says. “I can do it right now, unless you want to bring him back in tomorrow.”

Crowley looks down at Junior, worrying his lip. “He says it hurts a lot,” he says, a little faintly.

“Tonight then?” she asks, and Crowley nods minutely. “We’ll have to keep him overnight, and then I’ll evaluate him in the morning to see if he can be transported or if he needs to stay another day.”

Junior immediately starts to fart in distress, as though he’s understood, and Crowley makes another aborted noise.

“Overnight?” asks Crowley, his voice cracking, and though Faela can’t see his eyes, she  _ can _ see that his brow is furrowed in anxiety and that he is gripping Mr. Fell’s hand quite tightly. She’s never seen him quite this emotional.

“You can stay until the surgery is done, of course,” she says, trying to reassure him. “So you’ll know everything went smoothly. But yes, I recommend that he stay here overnight, so we can properly control his environment and avoid infections.”

Junior continues to hiss in distress and wraps around Crowley’s arm.

“I know, I know,” Crowley hisses to the snake. “I know. It’s okay. It’s—” He looks somewhat helplessly to Mr. Fell, who looks equally as lost and distressed.

“I know it’s scary,” says Faela gently. “But it’s the safest option. We have a controlled environment, and he’ll be perfectly comfortable and likely sleep through the night. I’ll even call you right when he wakes up so you can be here for him, if you’d like.”

“We’re not leaving you, Junior,” says Crowley, holding the snake up high enough that it can lick his cheek frantically. “We’ll stay overnight, too.”

Faela’s jaw drops open. “I’m sorry,” she says, “but you can’t—”

“Crowley, we need to get home to the others,” whispers Mr. Fell.

“Angel, I can’t,” Crowley whispers back, his voice breaking. “He’s so scared, I can’t abandon him.”

“He’ll be asleep the whole time,” says Faela again.

Crowley and Mr. Fell exchange glances, Crowley’s expression clearly pleading behind his dark glasses. Mr. Fell takes a deep breath and reaches over to slowly unwind Junior from his partner’s wrist.

“I know, I know, darling,” he says quietly, bringing Junior over to Faela. “But you’ll be all right. You’ll barely know it’s happening.”

“I’ll be there when you wake up, spawn,” says Crowley fiercely. “Promise.”

After preparing the sedative syringe, Jaquey leaves the room to prepare a surgery tray, and Faela takes Junior from Crowley with a grimace. She allows Crowley to pet Junior while she injects him and until he finally settles down into a blissful sleep. Jaquey knocks on the door that leads to the back, and Faela puts Junior down on the exam table.

“All right,” she says. “Please wait outside in the waiting room. I’ll come get you when it’s finished.”

Mr. Fell has to tug Crowley through the door again, but eventually they are gone. Jaquey comes in with the tray, smiling sadly.

“Heart-breaking,” she says.

Faela sighs. “Let’s get this coin out of him.”

* * *

It doesn’t take very long, and when she and Jaquey are finished cleaning up, she sends Jaquey to call Crowley and Mr. Fell back into the exam room. She’s cleaned up the coin as well, and has it in a little plastic baggie. Junior is in a little plastic tub with a water dish, for in case he wakes up, and he is curled in the center of it, all bandaged up and still asleep.

Crowley goes immediately to the tub and hisses into it, while Jaquey hands Mr. Fell the coin.

“Evidence,” she says, smiling.

Mr. Fell answers with a weak smile. “Quite,” he says, tucking it into his pocket.

“It went well,” Faela tells them. “He’s still asleep, and will likely be asleep throughout the night. That will keep him from moving and tearing his fresh stitches. It should only take four weeks to heal, but his first few sheds may be a bit difficult, so you might have to help him around that area. I’ll give you a pamphlet.” She reaches for one in the cupboards and holds it out to Crowley. He looks up from the tub to her and then the pamphlet, and finally takes it.

“I’ll call you in the morning with an update, and again if he wakes up,” she assures him.

“Thank you very much, Dr. Knowles,” says Mr. Fell, taking her hands. “We do appreciate you taking such good care of them.”

“My pleasure, Mr. Fell,” she says, smiling back at him. “They need just as much care as anybody else, and I am happy to provide it.”

“Crowley, my dear,” says Mr. Fell softly, but Crowley doesn’t move from where he is hunched over the tub, stroking Junior’s sleeping head. “Crowley, we should go home.”

“Ngk,” grunts Crowley, but he finally pulls himself away. Mr. Fell takes his hand again, and before they can leave, Crowley pokes his head back into the room and hisses once more. Probably towards the snake in the tub. Faela isn’t sure what he’d be hissing at her and Jaquey for.

* * *

Faela arrives at the clinic the next morning at the same time Jaquey does, as usual. They exchange pleasantries and Faela unlocks the door and holds it open for Jaquey, who goes around the front desk to start the computer systems. Faela flips through the files they have for the patients scheduled today and then sets them back on the counter.

“I’m going to check on Marbles and Anthony Junior,” she says. “Can you send their files to the exam room?”

“Can do,” says Jaquey, getting settled.

Faela heads towards the back, turning on lights as she goes, and unlocks the overnight room.

“Good morning!” she calls, and she gets a series of mews and chirps in reply. She checks on each of the enclosures, feeding the animals in her care as she goes, until she finally gets to Marbles.

“Good morning, Marbles,” she says.

“Morning,” chirps Marbles, a very colorful parrot.

“And how’s your wing today?” she asks, opening up Marble’s cage and reaching in to check. Marbles submits to the checkup, lifting her wing very slightly in her sling so Faela can see. “Looks good. You’ll be better in no time.”

“Thank you,” says Marbles.

“You’re welcome.”

She moves on to the controlled-environment chamber, which includes a humidifier and a slightly higher temperature, and since Anthony Junior should still be asleep, she goes to the x-rays to look at them one more time. She clips them onto a clipboard and turns around, and when she looks up, she shrieks and drops the clipboard with a clatter.

The very large snake wrapped around Anthony Junior’s container lifts its head briefly to give her a look that, if she could read reptilian faces fluently, would probably be saying, “Keep it down, will you? It’s too early for your nonsense.”

“Holy shit,” she breathes, and then she rushes out of the room, locking its door behind her.

“Jaquey,” she calls, on her way through the overnight room.

Marbles helpfully calls after her. “Guest!”

“Yes, Marbles, thank you,” she says through her teeth, and Jaquey meets her in the hallway.

“What’s the matter?”

“There seems to be a giant red-bellied black snake in the back room,” she says calmly. She doesn’t feel calm inside, of course; her heart is beating against her chest.

Jaquey stares at her.

“Would you please get Mr. Fell’s number?”

Without another word, they hurry to the front room, and Jaquey pulls up the Crowley-Fells’ information. Faela dials the number they have for Mr. Fell and waits impatiently while it rings.

“Hello, I’m sorry, but we’re closed right now—”

“Mr. Fell,” says Faela abruptly, “there is an adult red-bellied black snake in the back of our offices right now.”

Mr. Fell drops something on his end with a thud. “I beg your pardon?” he says, and then: “Hold on a moment.” She hears him call his partner’s name in the background, and she taps her foot impatiently on the ground. “Oh dear,” he says when he picks the phone back up, “it appears that, er, their father has escaped.”

“Their father,” she says flatly.

“Yes,” he says. “I’m sorry, he gets, erm, separation anxiety. Must have slithered over there all on his own. I’ll be right there to fetch him.”

“Yes, please,” she says, instead of what she wants to say, which is, “You had better.” She even manages to put the phone back down gently instead of slamming it.

“I swear to fucking—” she says, and then grabs at the air in a fit of frustration.

“They are a bit of trouble, aren’t they?” says Jaquey.

“ _ A bit _ .”

Faela goes back to the controlled environment room and peeks into the little window. The adult snake is still there, wrapped around the tub that kept Anthony Junior. Now that she is outside and can spend time looking, she can see that the lid is on the floor beneath the shelf on which the tub is sitting. It appears to have some fang marks in it.

For fuck’s sake.

Mr. Fell comes in the front door about ten minutes later, puffing and carrying two snakes on his arms, with two others poking their heads out of his pockets.

“Where is he?” he asks, out of breath.

“Back here,” says Faela, leading him to the overnight rooms. Jaquey is standing at the door with a pronged pole, which they would usually use for out of control animals, but if Mr. Fell does know this snake, hopefully it won’t be necessary.

“Oh, yes,” says Mr. Fell, peeking into the window. “That’s him. Their father. Erm. Excuse me.”

Faela opens the door for him, and Mr. Fell begins talking to the snake, who raises its head and hisses at him.

“Yes, I know, dear, but we were all worried sick and you can’t just intrude like this,” says Mr. Fell. “Come on.” He tries to pick up the snake’s coils to remove it from the shelf, but it hisses at him again and bats him with the end of its tail. “Now really!”

“You can use this,” says Jaquey, offering the pronged pole through the gap in the door. The snake hisses at her, and she immediately pulls back with a gasp.

“Now that’s enough of that,” scolds Mr. Fell, his hands on his hips. “Come on.”

“What the bloody hell is going on?” asks Faela, seething.

“Well, he hates to leave the poor dears alone is all,” says Mr. Fell, at least having the decency to look apologetic. “And he was so worried about Junior.”

“Perhaps you should have a more secure enclosure for him,” says Faela.

Mr. Fell laughs uneasily. “Er. Yes. Quite. Come on, darling, at least let the doctor take a look at him.”

The snake glances at the door where Faela is standing with her arms crossed, and then it looks back at Mr. Fell and slowly uncoils. But only a little.

“Oh for goodness’ sake,” mutters Faela, throwing her ponytail over her shoulder and marching in, taking the pronged pole from Jaquey. She stands next to Mr. Fell to look. The snake is coiled twice around the tub and coiled once around the edge of its insides, and when the snake lifts its head, it reveals Junior, still asleep and tucked into the center of the tub.

Faela sighs. “All right, he looks fine. Let me take another look at his stitches, and maybe take a few more x-rays.”

Mr. Fell manages to get the large snake to drape over one of his shoulders. When Faela tries to help by lifting some of its coils with the pronged pole, it hisses at her, and Mr. Fell baps it lightly on the head. The snake coils around his arm and lets him hold it, and the smaller snakes in his pockets flick their tongues out to greet their father.

Faela moves the tub to a table and has them all leave so she can take some photos.

“Your family is a load of trouble, little one,” she says to Anthony Junior quietly, and he just sleeps on. She moves him to the exam room where the rest of his family is waiting. His siblings have moved onto the exam table, slithering around and playing with what looks to be a pompom, and their father is still draped all over Mr. Fell, his head resting on one of Mr. Fell’s arms, watching his children with yellow eyes.

“Well, he looks like he’s recovering just fine,” says Faela, sliding the tub onto the exam table. The four little snakes slither up to it and lay their heads down on the edge to look in on their brother. One of them turns to look at Mr. Fell and hisses a little, wagging its tail in a “come on” gesture.

“Oh, right,” says Mr. Fell. He stands up without any difficulty, despite the snake wrapped around him, steps over to the table, and takes some items from his pockets: a small pink stone, a cricket, and what looks to be a dinosaur-shaped chicken nugget. When he meets Faela’s frankly bewildered expression, he smiles. “The children wanted to bring him get-well-soon gifts. I thought to bring a balloon as well, but then we had to hurry here.”

Faela looks down at the table where the snakes are picking up and carrying their gifts over to the tub. It’s such a sweet gesture that Faela’s iciness is starting to melt.

“That is…” says Faela, her eyes still wide in disbelief, and then finally she breathes out, “precious.”

The snake wrapped around Mr. Fell’s shoulders slowly slithers down onto the exam table to wrap around the tub again, and his children wiggle to him and begin to drape themselves all over him.

“Aww,” says Faela, smiling. Regardless of the scare he gave them, it’s clear that their father was just worried. “Such a loving, cuddly little family you have.”

“Indeed,” says Mr. Fell proudly.

“Their father. What’s his name?”

“Oh.” Mr. Fell looks taken aback for a moment. “Erm. Crawly.”

The father snake raises his head and looks disapproving, and Mr. Fell grimaces.

“Crawly,” says Faela, raising an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t ‘Slitherly’ be more suitable?” [10] The large snake actually rolls his eyes and then looks back down at Anthony Junior, who shifts in the center of the tub. His siblings begin to wiggle and hiss quietly, and their father shushes them all with a flick of his tongue.

Junior wakes slowly and sluggishly lifts his head, and Crawly moves to make sure Junior sees him right away. Junior tastes the air with his tongue, and Crawly nudges his nose with his own and lets Junior rest his head on top of his nose.

Faela suppresses a delighted squeal and clears her throat. “Well, now he’s awake, and all of his stitches seem fine, so I’ll discharge him. I’ll show you how to give him antibiotics.”

Mr. Fell looks apprehensive about the oral syringe and the bottle of antibiotics, but he listens carefully as Faela explains and gives Junior a dose right there in the clinic, with Crawly still looped around him. Junior does not like it at all, of course, but his father distracts him with more tongue flicks.

Mr. Fell convinces Crawly to slither back over his shoulder and arm, leaving Faela free to pack up the tub with Anthony Junior and all of his siblings inside, since Mr. Fell neglected to bring a carrier himself. Mr. Fell thanks Faela profusely and is about to leave the clinic when Faela stops him.

“Ah, Mr. Fell, by the way,” she says, as casually as she can, “I’ve done a checkup on the children, but has their father ever had one?”

Crawly visibly tenses around Mr. Fell’s arm. Mr. Fell fidgets at the door.

“Oh. Er. Well. No, but he’s in excellent health and—”

“Regardless, it is my recommendation that all animals get regular checkups,” Faela cuts in. “You never know when something might pop up. Preventative care is essential for anyone’s health.”

“Yes, I suppose—”

Crawly hisses, but Faela ignores him and turns to Jaquey. “Jaquey, could you schedule an appointment for Mr. Fell and Crawly?” She turns back to Mr. Fell. “How about tomorrow? Give everyone time to settle down after Junior’s big adventure, and then his father can have a health examination.”

“All right,” says Mr. Fell, looking a bit dizzy. The arm that Crawly is wrapped around begins to move towards the door jerkily, as though the snake is forcing the movement.

“How is three o’clock?” asks Jaquey, typing at the computer

“All right,” says Mr. Fell faintly, his hand on the doorknob.

“See you tomorrow at three, then!” says Faela brightly.

Mr. Fell flees with his family of snakes, and Faela and Jaquey exchange glances and then burst into relieved and hysterical laughter.

* * *

Faela half-expects the Crowley-Fells to miss their appointment the next day, and when three o’clock rolls around without seeing scales nor hair of them, she settles in front of the computer in the back to post new photos of her residents, in hopes of finding them new homes. The phone rings at 3:15, and Faela picks up absently, still editing a photo of Felicia, a cat who has been looking for a home for about a month now.

“Yes?” she says.

“The Crowley-Fells are here,” says Jaquey.

“Oh.” This is a moderate surprise. “Show them to the exam room. I’ll be there shortly.”

She finishes up the photo and makes the post, and then goes to the exam room. Mr. Fell is there, and Crawly is already curled up on the exam table, yellow eyes glaring at Mr. Fell.

“Hello!” says Faela cheerfully. “Welcome back!”

Mr. Fell smiles weakly. “Good afternoon, Dr. Knowles.”

“Where’s Crowley today?” she asks, going to the drawer to put on gloves. She had considered bringing her hide gloves, because Crawly is a venomous snake and seems particularly ornery, but she stopped herself.

“Ah. Work,” says Mr. Fell.

“Too bad,” says Faela. “I was surprised he didn’t come in to see Junior yesterday morning.”

“Well. You know how it is,” says Mr. Fell with a nervous little chuckle. “Busy, I suppose.”

Faela smiles at him. “Indeed,” she says, and then she turns to the snake on the table. “Hello there! Nice to see you again. Where are your babies today?”

And just like that, four little heads pop out of Crawly’s coils. Their tongues flick in the air and some of them begin to bounce their heads eagerly.

“Aww,” Faela coos, booping each of their noses in turn. “Your father loves you very much, doesn’t he?” They all let out little hisses, and Crawly hides his head underneath an outer coil. “All right, let’s go,” she says, reaching for Zed and lifting them up to move them out of the way. Their siblings all crawl over their father and move to the edge of the table to watch, and Faela lets Zed down next to them.

“Where is Anthony Junior today?” she asks Mr. Fell.

“Oh, somewhere in there,” he says, gesturing to Crawly, who slowly uncoils a little so that Faela can see Anthony Junior lying on the table right in the middle of his father’s loops. She carefully picks him up and moves him to sit near his siblings.

“Now,” says Faela, turning to Crawly and putting her hands on her hips. “Let’s see what we have here, eh?”

Crawly doesn’t move, so Faela starts nudging his body so she can start with his head. He hisses and snaps at her, and she yanks her hand back.

“Hey!” she says. “No need for that.”

“Really, dear,” says Mr. Fell with a huff. “I’m terribly sorry about him. He’s been in an awful mood all morning.”

“Probably worried about Junior, huh?” says Faela, grimacing. “Poor thing. Now, be good like your children, hmm? They endured their examinations with great dignity. Didn’t you?” she asks the small snakes at the edge of the table. They all wiggle proudly. “Aww, you’re all such good babies. Tell your father to behave, okay?”

Rosa and Oscar dart forward and boop their father’s body with their noses. Crawly lifts his tail and lets it fall back down with a soft  _ whump _ . 

“Dear, if you don’t behave, you’ll set a bad example for the children,” says Mr. Fell.

Crawly hisses, but when Faela reaches for him again, he sulkily submits. She checks his eyes and the inside of his mouth, and although he swallows her tongue depressor and looks rather smug about it, she is satisfied. She was really only using it to tease him anyway.

Once she’s done massaging down his body—”He ate recently, eh?” she asks, and Mr. Fell nods—and past his cloaca—when she tries to examine him there, he smacks her with his tail, which is completely understandable, and anyway, he looks fine, so there’s no reason to be more invasive—she steps back and pronounces him healthy.

“He’s rather large for his species,” she says, “but other than that,” she adds, looking directly into Crawly’s eyes as she continues, “he’s a perfectly normal snake.”

If she had to, she would guess that the look Crawly is giving her is entirely unamused.

“Well, good,” says Mr. Fell, sighing with relief. “Glad to hear it.”

Faela takes her gloves off, snapping them before depositing them in the wastebasket. “So,” she says slowly, “I suppose I should come clean and tell you that I’m a witch, too, and that I’ve known that your snakes are your familiars this entire time. You needn’t hide it from me anymore.”

The large snake—Crowley, she surmised—lifts his head, and Mr. Fell’s eyes widen in shock.

“Oh, come now,” she says, smirking. “Why else would my practice be called  _ Familiar Care _ ?”

* * *

[5] The origin of this phrase is “Needs must while the devil drives” and means that sometimes you have to do something even if you don’t like doing it.[return to text]

[6] The reason: They begin to agree excitedly and also extol their father’s virtues, which is just unbecoming for a demon. Can’t have your spawn telling people you have  _ virtues, _ after all. An approximate translation: “Yes, we very good!” “We good for Father!” “We love Father!” “Father is good, too!” “Father is best snake!” “Father take good care of us!” “Father is kind!” “We want be good like Father!” “Father, does vet know we love you?”[return to text]

[7] The children had thought it a hilarious prank when they crawled into their father’s Christmas stocking on Christmas Eve, but then they fell asleep there. Mal ate chocolate out of curiosity and hunger, and when Crowley overturned his stocking the morning to see what Aziraphale had put in there, the five snakes tumbled out, squealing in surprise. “Well,” said Crowley, “regifting is rather rude, angel.”[return to text]

[8] Whichever “dad” Crowley means here, it’s true. Aziraphale enjoys sweets—usually after a meal, as a dessert—and Crowley has been known to enjoy sweet cocktails and angel cake. He’d vehemently deny this, if pressed.[return to text]

[9] Madame Tracy had rushed over when they called. Currently, she was trying to keep the little ones’ minds off things by reading to them from children’s books, but as I think most readers know, children’s books can be quite scary sometimes. Poetry seemed to do the trick, however. Everyone knows that snakes love poetry.[return to text]

[10] I’m sorry, dear reader, I couldn’t help myself. This joke comes from  [ here ](https://kowbojki.tumblr.com/post/186609349801/quote-by-scrambledbabychickens-full-thing-with) .[return to text]


	3. Chapter 3

**PART III**

* * *

Faela Knowles’s mother was proud to say that she was a perfectly normal witch, thank you very much. She was a subscriber of the New Aquarian, as every witch in her family had always been since the publication began in 1572, first as an herbal guide and then as a guide for identifying and avoiding witch hunters. [11] She could read tarot, and often did for neighbors and tourists, and tell when weather was going to be particularly foul, which was a boon to local gardeners and lovers alike, who liked to know if they needed to cover their more delicate flowers in a storm or when an out-of-doors excursion might be ill-advised. [12]

Faela’s mother, it could be said, was much more of an artist than her daughter, and so was quite disappointed when Faela refused to go dowsing and much preferred to stay inside studying, of all things, science.

Not that Faela’s mother didn’t believe in science, of course. Climate change was certainly a real phenomenon, and evolution and the dinosaurs were definitely proof of a long-lived world [13], but her weather divination was a bit more accurate than the local weatherperson’s.

Faela showed no interest in these aspects of witchery. No, she quite liked the sciences, and she would spend hours outdoors, not dowsing or divining the weather, but observing nature with her magnifying glass. She grew to like animals the best.

So it was no surprise, really, that she studied the veterinary arts—”Sciences, mum, sciences”—when she went off to school.

It should also come as no surprise that Faela does not limit her studies or care to the typical sort of animals. She also cares for familiars.

* * *

She suspected that Mr. Crowley was a witch almost immediately, but she did not want to assume. Usually when witches brought in their familiars, they came to her with a referral from a fellow witch, so there was no mistaking what kind of being she was caring for. But Crowley was not part of the community, as far as she was aware, and though he put down Mr. Fell as his partner on the paperwork, he made no mention of being a witch otherwise. It was quite possible, she thought, that they were only romantic partners.

Then, of course, Zed had apparently confessed—only using their voice with Crowley—to having a bite of donut, and as there was no other way to determine why Zed had been so lethargic, Faela trusted that the witch Crowley knew his familiar well enough to know whether they were telling the truth. And if Zed hadn’t felt better, Crowley probably would have brought them back in.

So Faela let him leave with his five tiny familiars. (So young to have so much responsibility, really, but Faela would keep a close eye on them to make sure they were not being abused; that was another purpose of her practice and why Marbles was currently a resident. Faela had no qualms about seizing a battered familiar from their abusive witch and warding the practice against them.)

After Crowley left, Faela had turned to Jaquey with a sigh.

“So what was that about?” asked Jaquey.

“His snake ate a donut,” she answered, coming around the desk to look at the files for her next appointments.

“A _ donut _?”

“I swear, these witches sometimes,” complained Faela. “Think their familiars can get away with anything, just because they can handle magic. They’re still animals! Magic, but animals nonetheless!”

Her tirade went on, but Jaquey was so used to it at that point that she knew exactly when her input—“Yes, exactly” and “Absolutely” and “It’s unbelievable”—was needed, and she was able to continue her work while Faela ranted herself all the way back to the back office to prepare for her next appointment.

* * *

When Mr. Fell came in with his family for the first time, Faela wondered if maybe he was unaware that his partner was a witch, but once he joined in to comfort Oscar, she came to the conclusion that they were _ both _ witches, which was actually rather lovely. She liked Mr. Fell quite a lot, and Jaquey spoke highly of him after their brief conversation, despite his leaving the donut box open.

Then, of course, Crowley _lost his bloody mind_ over Junior having to stay overnight. Faela’s first thought upon seeing the adult red-bellied black snake in the controlled environment room was a numb, _Oh._ _So Mr. Fell must be the witch then._

And then she had been angry at the intrusion.

Her anger abated at the obvious care Mr. Fell and his familiar felt for Crowley’s young [14], and abated even more once she and Jaquey managed to wrangle them into an appointment for Crowley himself.

Their laughter at his expense may have been cruel, but in Faela’s opinion, it was just.

* * *

The red-bellied black snake on the exam room table rears up and shifts into a red-haired man wearing dark glasses, as usual.

“Then _ why _ ,” he hisses, “the _ bloody Heaven _ did you feel the need to _ examine _ me?”

Faela raises a cool eyebrow at him. “You broke into my clinic after I specifically told you that you could _ not _ stay overnight and risked inviting infection into a sanitary space while my patient was healing. You’ll forgive me if I felt retribution was in order.”

Crowley stares at her, and then, after a long moment, nods. “All right. Fair enough. Well played, doc.”

Mr. Fell sighs, and Faela turns to him.

“You might have just told me you were a witch,” she says. “I run this clinic for normal animals and familiars alike. It’s well known among the witches in London.”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” says Mr. Fell. “Although it’s not the first time I’ve been mistaken for a witch.”

Faela frowns and looks to Crowley and back to Mr. Fell. “Well,” she says, “what are you then?”

Mr. Fell and Crowley exchange glances.

“It’s complicated,” says Mr. Fell at last, worrying his hands.

Faela crosses her arms over her chest. “Uh huh.”

Crowley rolls his eyes behind his sunglasses, and then he seems to realize that he has them on, and he takes them off and tosses them on the exam table, on which he is still sitting. He turns slitted yellow eyes on Faela.

“Snake demon,” he says, pointing to himself, and then, pointing to Mr. Fell, “angel. And the snakes are our accidental children.”

“Unexpected children,” Mr. Fell corrects gently.

“Unexpected,” agrees Crowley, and then he points a finger at Faela. “Tell no one.”

Faela feels a power working on her, wrapping around her words. A demon and an angel with snake children is new, but Faela lives in a world of magic. There are plenty of unknowns, and she is not afraid of them. “What about Jaquey?” she asks immediately. “She’s my nurse and business partner.”

“Need to know basis, doc,” says Crowley.

“Listen, we don’t know exactly what the children are capable of,” says Mr. Fell. “But you’ve done a marvelous job taking care of them thus far, and we would love to continue to count on you.”

He sounds so hopeful, and Faela sighs. Faela certainly isn’t going to turn them away, after all of this. The five snakes are _ divine _ in origin? This is a treat, and she’s bound to learn something new. “All right,” she says. “As far as anyone else knows, though, you’re witches. That’s the easiest explanation if I can’t tell anyone about you.”

“Fine, fine,” says Crowley, waving a hand, and though Mr. Fell grimaces, he does not disagree. 

“What?” says Crowley suddenly, but he’s not speaking to Faela. He and Mr. Fell have turned their attention to the five snakes at the edge of the exam table.

“Well, yes, I suppose,” says Mr. Fell.

“She knows everything already, so go ahead,” says Crowley.

And quite suddenly, Faela hears five little voices all calling out just as four snakes shoot towards her, slithering over Crowley’s legs to get as close to her as they can.

“Auntie Vet!”

“Auntie Vet is nice!”

“Does Auntie Vet know we love?”

“You’ll just have to tell her,” Crowley stage-whispers to them.

“AUNTIE VET WE LOVE YOU!”

“Oh my gods,” says Faela.

“Auntie Vet, do you like chimkin nuggest?”

Faela laughs. “Chimkin nuggest?” she repeats incredulously. “Who was that?”

“Me! Anthony Junior!” He wiggles his head as best he can from where he has slowly slithered to his father’s side.

“My favorite food is cricket!” says another snake, though Faela can’t quite pick out which one of them is speaking at any given time.

“I’m like egg!”

“Chocolate!” shouts one of the little snakes very loudly.

“Oi,” says Crowley. “She told you to lay off the chocolate. Don’t go telling on yourself.”

Faela just laughs. “So what is your favorite food, Anthony Junior?” she asks.

“Chimkin nuggest!” he says, wiggling happily. Crowley scoops him up so he can join his siblings on his father’s lap.

“Auntie Vet, I want to boop!”

“Me first!”

“I said first!”

“Boop?” asks Faela, meeting Crowley’s eyes.

He smirks. “They like you. They want to show you.”

She tilts her head to the side, and Zed lifts themselves up.

“Up! Up!” they say, and then they lose balance and fall off Crowley’s knee. Faela’s arm shoots out and she catches them, but they barely seem to register what happened. “Up, up!”

Faela obliges and lifts them up and then closer to her face, and then Zed rears up and strikes their head against her nose.

“Boop!” cries Zed.

“Boop!” the others echo. “We want boop!”

“Oh my gods,” says Faela again, tears coming to her eyes. “What did I do to deserve such a blessing?”

“You took very good care of them,” says Mr. Fell, smiling softly.

“Fathers also take good care!” says Zed. “We love Father and Azirafather!”

“Azirafather?”

“That’s me,” says Mr. Fell proudly. “Aziraphale. So, Azirafather.”

At the behest of the snabies, Faela picks each of them up so they can “boop” her nose in turn. As they do, they all tell her about their days, in a cacophony of little voices, and about how much they love their fathers, which causes quite a deep blush on Crowley’s face, which he tries to cover by adjusting his glasses. Mr. Fell—Aziraphale—just beams.

“Father is best snake!”

“Father was good patient?”

“Azirafather’s pockets are warm! Are all pockets warm?”

“I eat ant yesterday! Is that okay?”

“Auntie Vet is witch?”

“Does Auntie Vet like mongoose?”

They all suddenly stop and turn wide eyes onto her.

“Erm,” she says, and glances at Crowley, who is also looking at her over the tops of his sunglasses. Aziraphale chuckles beside her, no help at all. “Well,” she begins, stammering, “I care for all creatures, no matter who they are. Even if they are utter nightmares who sneak in to where they don’t belong and frighten you,” she adds, looking at Crowley.

“Oh,” says one of the snabies.

“Auntie Vet is like Azirafather, then,” says another, nodding wisely.

“Azirafather also loves all of God’s creatures,” says another.

“Even if they are utter nightmares,” Aziraphale agrees, looking fondly at Crowley. Crowley tries to scowl at him, but it doesn’t work; there is clearly a smile under there, and he is blushing again.

Faela leads them out to the reception area. Jaquey smirks at Crowley, who sticks his forked tongue out at her, which only serves to make her laugh. He leans on her desk.

“The pole was a bit overkill,” he tells her.

“Was it?” she asks sweetly.

He grins. “You’re in trouble, you know,” he says.

“I’m sure,” she says, still smirking. “Cash or card today?”

His grin widens and hands her his card. When she hands it back and he pockets it, he calls over his shoulder, “Say good-bye to Auntie Vet.”

“BYE AUNTIE VET!”

“Good-bye!”

“I love you, Auntie Vet!”

Faela manages not to burst into happy tears. They are so unbelievably precious. She waves at them until they go through the door and disappear from sight.

“Oh my gods,” she says.

“What happened in there?” asks Jaquey, laughing.

“I told them, and their children immediately started _ talking _ and oh my gods, Jaquey, I can’t handle it. I hope we never see them again.”

“I’m keeping this right here,” says Jaquey, patting the pole where it is leaned against the wall next to her, “just in case.”

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

The bell over the door rings, and Jaquey looks up from her computer.

“Ah,” she says. “Hello, Crowley.”

“‘lo,” he says, waving an arm that has a small snake wrapped around it.

“Donut again?” asks Jaquey.

“Donut,” he confirms, walking straight past her and into the exam room.

“Donut?” asks the customer waiting in one of the seats, holding her hamster cage on her lap.

Jaquey smiles. “His snakes get into all sorts of trouble,” she says.

Quite a lot, if all of the photos of the various #snakeshaming moments that she and Faela have printed out and tacked up on the walls are anything to go by. Aziraphale and Crowley keep them updated on the little ones’ progress, coming in to visit only every once in a while to say hello. In the months since the truth was revealed, Faela and Jaquey have found that their lives have become more peaceful. Jaquey’s meter never runs out these days, and Faela’s practice is doing remarkably well. She hasn’t run out of supplies in a long time, despite never actually placing orders for more, and the familiars in her care are finding good partners faster than ever.

She keeps any and all suspicions to herself.

Faela walks into the exam room to find Crowley sitting on the edge of the exam table with Oscar. Oscar is zooming around the table, avoiding his father’s hands while Crowley tries to block his way. Oscar stops once he smells Faela, and slithers to the edge of the table, bouncing up and down.

“Auntie Vet!” he cries.

“Hello,” she says, smiling. “You know, you don’t need to eat things you shouldn’t just to visit.”

“We’ve been busy, with the move and all,” says Crowley, leaning back on his hands. “Oscar decided a manufactured excuse was in order.”

“I ate a whole donut,” says Oscar, wiggling proudly.

Faela raises an eyebrow at the lump in his black body. “I can tell,” she says, and then she pulls up a chair and settles in. “All right, tell me what I’ve missed.”

* * *

[11] Though much of the guide was in code and therefore not of very much help for witches who were not involved enough to be told of the code.[return to text]

[12] Not necessarily respectively.[return to text]

[13] Though, of course, in this we know that Mrs. Knowles is incorrect.[return to text]

[14] Faela didn’t usually approve of witch-familiar relationships, because of the inevitable power dynamics, but there were always exceptions, and it was clear that Mr. Fell respected his familiar Crowley very much.[return to text]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3 Thank you for reading!


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